


Monster

by patentpending



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: “They say you’re a monster, you know,” Roman said to the creature on the other side of the bars.“Oh, my prince.”  The creature looked up and smiled through fanged teeth.  “That’s because I am."The other sides keep a monster locked in the basement.  Roman falls in love with him anyway.





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Roman!! I got you emotional pain
> 
> TWs:  
> character kept in captivity  
> sympathetic / morally ambiguous Deceit  
> minor injury  
> Implied sexual content (skip "He hadn’t seen Deceit for three weeks” through "He rolled over and tried not to dream.”  
> extreme self-deprecation

Screaming woke Roman up in the dead of night.

He startled, nearly fell out of bed.  It came again - a snarling, hissing, growling sort of thing.  He could barely make out words. “...go of me!”

Another voice responded, rumbling.

Virgil?

Roman flung his covers off, grabbed his katana, and crept into the hall.  The noises grew as he padded towards the stairs, back pressed against the wall.

He could hear the other sides, indistinctly, but there was someone - something? - else there.

Logan came into view first, standing far back enough that Roman could see him even without peering over the stairwell.  His arms were crossed over his chest, jaw working.

Slinking forward, Roman caught sight of Patton, chewing his lip and staring ahead intently.  Another step and Roman realized why.

Something thrashed in Virgil's arms.  Thomas's fight or flight reflex could hold it, but just barely.

“Could you - calm down - already!”  Virgil grunted out between bouts of furious clawing and hissing.

The creature in his arms stilled.  Roman's breath caught in his throat.

“Oh, forgive me.”  Scales slithered over the creature’s face.  Roman could only see half of it, but there was no mistaking the green hue, the pink scar, the lips peeled back to reveal fangs.  Tall, thin, and corded with compact muscle - he looked almost like a snake. “I've entirely forgotten the proper etiquette for a _kidnapping.”_

Roman's mind swam.  What the hell? Who was this?  How did the other sides know him?

“I'm sorry about this, kiddo. I really am,” Patton fretted, wringing his hands.  “But we've got to do what's best for Thomas, understand? It'd be just awful if he wasn't a good person because of you.”

The snake just hissed, spat at him.

Logan gritted his jaw, turning his head.  “Patton,” he said lowly. “Are you entirely certain that this is the best course of action?”

“You agreed, just like the rest of us, L.”  Virgil grunted as the snake jerked frantically in his arms, hissing and snapping his jaws.

“It won't be too bad,” Patton assured him.  “We'll check in on him a bunch to make sure he's doing okay, and he can still do his job down there!  Just not… too much.”

 _“He,”_ the creature snarled, “can hear you.”

“I know, kiddo.”  Patton smiled sadly and wrapped his arms around the creature, squeezed, then let go.  “We're just doing what's best for Thomas.”

“Sssso you ssssay,” the being hissed.

“Let's go,” Virgil said gruffly.  “We'll wake up Roman if he keeps being so loud.”

“What _are_ we going to tell Roman?”  Logan smoothed his tie again and again and again.

Patton pressed his fingers against a nearly invisible seam in the wall.  A door swung open, leading into darkness. “It's safer if he doesn't know.”

Logan bowed his head.

“Come on,” Virgil marched the monster towards the door.  Most of the fight had gone out of him, leaving his chest heaving and his shoulders tight.

“Such little respect for your old friend, Virgil.”  The snake smiled through fanged teeth. “I was your favorite person in the world, once upon a time.”

Virgil huffed out an ironic laugh.  “That doesn't change what you are now.”

“And what's that?”

“A _monster.”_

Logan and Patton filed through the door, and Virgil shoved the monster through after.  The snake looked back, up over his shoulder, just before the door closed, and his eyes caught Roman's.

An eternity passed.  Two eyes gazed back at Roman - one liquid gold, the other dark as a velvety night.

Roman only saw him for that one moment, that eternity in a second, but those eyes, that monster, seared into his mind.

He was beautiful.

He was the most beautiful thing Roman had ever seen.

The door closed.

Roman, shaking, stumbled back to bed.

 

It had been a fever dream.

Roman laid in bed, staring at his painted ceiling through bleary eyes.

A weird, weird dream.  That's all it was. Otherwise, the alternative was, what, the other sides locking a snake-man in a bowler hat up in their basement?  They didn't have a basement!

Besides, who could that guy have been anyway?  Thomas only had four sides. They were the only ones in the mindscape.

Roman shook himself, sat up, combed his hair, dressed, and went to breakfast.

The other sides were already there - Virgil hunched over a mug of coffee, Logan perusing the paper, and Patton flipping blueberry pancakes.

“Good morrow, my dearest companions!”  Roman boomed, strutting into the room.

Virgil winced.  “Princey, you're at an eight right now, and I need like a… three point five, max.”

“Aww, what's the matter, snore-pheus?” Roman teased, dropping into the chair next to him.  “Didn't get your typical allotment of sweet nightmares?”

The newspaper crinkled as Logan tightened his hands around it.

“There's only one sweet nightmare around here!”  Patton swooped in, bubbling, a stacked plate of pancakes in each hand.  “And he's right here,” he cooed, sliding one in front of Virgil and dropping a kiss on his cheek.

 _“Pat,”_ Virgil muttered, a flush creeping over his nose.

Logan rolled his eyes, crisply folding the paper.  “If this nauseating display is quite over, I'll be absconding.”

“You haven't eaten, pocket protector.”  Roman arched an eyebrow. “There's a whole jar of Crofters with your name on it!”

“Nice one!”  Patton giggled, sliding another stack of pancakes before the prince.

“My hypothalamus is registering a satisfactory glucose level,” Logan said tersely, grabbing a mug.  “I'll be quite fine.”

“That's my coffee!”  Virgil called after him.

Logan took a long sip, walking out of the room.  “Tragic.”

It was all so normal.

 _A fever dream,_ Roman thought again, reassured.

 

He hummed to himself, fingers dancing along the wall as he walked back to his room.

Let's see, what did he have to do today?  He needed to finish the new script, meet with Logan to edit it, and stitch up that tear in one of his old outfits if he had time; there was a -

Seam.

There was a seam in the wall.  Barely visible, hardly noticeable.  You couldn't see it unless you were looking for it, or had felt it, as Roman's trailing hand had done.

Roman swallowed hard and took a step back.  Oh. That was… oh.

Gingerly, he brought his fist up and rapped on the wall, lightly.  It echoed, hollow.

Roman bolted up the stairs.

 

It was real.

A week passed.

That… that monster was real.

Another week.

What Roman had seen was real.

Another.

Those eyes haunted him, tormented him.

Another.

He could see them at night, staring back at him.  Gorgeous eyes, liquid gold and night-velvet. Eyes of a monster.  The monster had seen him, Roman knew it.

Just like he knew, somehow, that he was waiting for Roman.

 

It was inevitable, really.

Roman stared at the hidden panel in the wall, at the fading yellow-patterned wallpaper and that small seam.

What was he supposed to do, _not_ investigate?  Leave the mystery over the monster in their basement to be a secret among the other sides?  Never find out _when they got a basement?_

No.  This… this was all he could do.

Roman splayed his hand out, against the invisible panel, just as he had seen Patton do almost a month ago.

He pushed.

It swung open soundlessly.  A gaping maw with teeth of cracking wooden stairs, leading down into the darkness.

Vaguely, he felt that it should’ve been harder, that another side should’ve come around the corner and tackled him for his stupidity, but it wasn’t.  There was nothing stopping him but himself.

Roman took a step forward and descended into the belly of the beast.

 

The stairs creaked under his weight, groaning heralds of his arrival.  The staircase was longer than he had thought, steeper too. Surely, it couldn’t have taken too long to descend, but it felt like eons.

A cage took up almost the entire room at the bottom of the stairs.  It was massive - looming towers of thick metal poles crossed by iron bars.  The gaps were just about large enough to stick an arm though. And there, in the center, was the monster.

He didn’t look surprised to see Roman, flicking his eyes up from his book - Romeo and Juliet.  “Prince Roman,” he said, and his voice was even more intoxicating than Roman remembered, all silk and worn leather.  “I was wondering how long it’d take you to come find me.”

It took Roman a few tries to find his voice.  “How do you know who I am?”

“The others sides speak of you.”  The monster strode forward with a virile, serpentine sort of grace.  “Second-hands accounts don’t attest to your true beauty, however,” he purred, looking down in false modesty.

A violent flush slammed against Roman’s cheeks.

“They speak of you too,” he managed, trying to keep his heart inside his chest.  “They say you’re a monster, you know,” Roman said to the creature on the other side of the bars.

“Oh, my prince.”  The creature looked up and smiled through fanged teeth.  “That’s because I am.”

“Is that why you're down here?”  Roman was astounded his voice managed to remain steady.  “They thought you were dangerous?”

“Dangerous?” he echoed.  “Oh, you flatter me. I’m just a bit venomous sometimes.”  The edge of a fang gleamed against a soft, plush lower lip.

“They must have had a good reason,” Roman said stalwartly.  “I know the other sides. They aren’t cruel.”

The monster’s lip curled derisively.  “So different than me, aren’t they?”  He slithered back and forth in front of the bars, mismatched eyes flashing.  “I should have known you’re just like them.” He bared his fangs. “Get out of here, little prince, or you’ll find out why I’m here.”

Roman ran.

 

He came back the next night, of course.  

If pressed, he would insist it was because heroes don’t fear their adversaries.  If it was only to himself, he might admit there was something more.

“Set the food down, but, please, _don't_ leave,” the monster drawled, coiled up with his back to the stairs.  “You know how much I adore seeing your gorgeous, shining fac-”

He stopped as soon as he turned.  Stared.

“Couldn't stay away?”  None of the cockiness of his words registered in his tone.  His voice was soft, almost as if he feared he'd spook Roman off.  “I knew my charm would be too much for you.”

Roman could physically see him beating back the hope in his eyes.  Something in his chest cracked open.

“What can I say?”  He offered a tentative smile, carefully sitting before the cage.  “Snake skin _is_ all the rage these days.”

So he was back the next night, and the next, and the next, until his hours split into two very separate lives.  While Thomas was up and about, in the sunshine, Roman didn’t change. Prince Roman, Creativity, was no different.

He took a short nap when Thomas first fell asleep; when the moonlight of dreams shone through his window, casting everything into grayscale, he got up again.  He crept through the silver night, holding his breath everytime he thought one of the other sides stirred, until he was with the monster once more.

The monster was well-read, almost as much as Roman, although both were a far cry from Logan.  He never seemed to stop flirting either, which… wasn’t exactly a drawback. It was nice to feel wanted for once.

Perhaps the only downside was that his sleep schedule was taking the brunt force of the changes.

“You’re sleeping even more than I am, lately,” Virgil snorted into a mug of coffee as Roman shuffled in at the crack of noon.

“I’m storing up on extra beauty sleep,” Roman sniffed, patting down his bedhead.  “I’m trying to see if I can counteract your homely influences on our poor Thomas.”

Logan had to throw a bucket of water to break them up.

 

“He just lunged over the table at me,” Roman laughed, recounting the incident.  “It was just play-fighting though, don’t worry. He’s like an angry cat half the time.”

“Or a raccoon,” the monster quipped.  “I didn’t know the one angry man is judge _and_ jury now.”

Roman snorted, lifting a hand to hide his unabashed grin.  “One angry man, oh my gosh.”

The snake preened.  “I thought you’d like that one.”

“How do you know so much about theatre anyway?”  Roman tilted his head. He was lying with his stomach against the cold ground, arms pillowed beneath his chin.  On the other side of the bars, the monster mirrored him. “I mean, besides the copious amount of scripts you have in there.”

An awkward silence hung in the air.  If they didn’t acknowledge the cage, it was almost easy to pretend it wasn't there.  They didn’t have to talk about it, at the very least.

“Oh, by Odin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”  Roman petered off, wincing, but the other side just flashed a thin-lipped smile.

“It’s fine.”  He cleared his throat, shook his head.  “Well, acting and lying really aren’t that different, and, well.”  He chuckled, a low, rumbling roll like thunder, sending the most pleasant shivers down Roman’s spine.  “Lying so _isn’t_ my thing.”

“Lying isn’t…”  Roman mused himself through that statement before brightening.  “Oh, so that’s what you’re in charge of? Lying?”

“Among other things.”

“That makes so much sense!”  Roman laughed. “Man, no wonder Patton hates you.”

“He does?”  The other side said dryly.  “Hadn’t noticed. I always thought the unbreakable lock was a sign of his unbreakable affection.”

Roman blinked.  “Is it really?” At the other side’s questioning look, he elaborated.  “Unbreakable?”

The monster huffed out a laugh and gestured towards it.  Scratch marks littered the edges. He pulled his glove off to reveal taloned fingers, some nails snapped off painfully short.  “As far as I can tell.”

Roman stifled a gasp.  “You’re bleeding!”

“What?”  The snake mocked his gasp.  “And here I was thinking that was ketchup!”

Roman ran an exasperated hand through his hair.  “Look, mo-” He stopped, blinked. “I don’t think I ever asked for you name.  What is it?”

The monster’s face shuttered closed.  “Private,” he said flatly.

Roman decided some matters were more pressing and let it go.  “Either way,” he huffed, waving his hand. A first aid kit appeared in his lap.  “You can’t hurt yourself like this, especially if you’re not going to take care of yourself afterwards!”  He flipped open the lid and began digging through it. “Why didn’t you ask one of the other sides for help?”

The monster laughed bitterly.  “Oh, sure, that would be just swell.  ‘Please, Mr. Captor, sir, can I have a bandaid for my itty bitty scratch’?”

“This is more than a scratch,” Roman snapped, fishing out the antibacterial gel.  “We can get hurt, just like Thomas can. Why wouldn’t you at least _try_ to get some help?”

“They already took my freedom,” the snake hissed, “but I’ll be damned if they take my dignity too.  They don’t fucking _get_ to see me hurt or distressed or emotional, alright?  They don’t get to take that from me too.”

“Then why,” Roman said softly, reaching for his hands, “do I get to?”

The monster let Roman take his injured hands, watching in silence as he gently dabbed on the gel.

“Because,” he said eventually, as Roman began to unwrap the gauze.  “You’re different from them.”

Roman didn’t quite know how to respond to that.  The silence settled around them like a fog as Roman carefully wrapped the monster’s fingers.  They were long, he couldn’t help but notice, and could almost be called elegant if not for the snapped talons and patches of scales.  If he ever hurt the monster, there was no sound of pain. Just slow, even breathing in time with Roman’s own.

“There,” Roman said, softly, smoothing the last bandage into place.  “All better.”

“All better,” his monster echoed and almost smiled.

 

Soon enough, late-night trips weren’t enough to satisfy Roman.  He found himself creeping into the apparently-existent basement earlier, when the sides first settled down to sleep, and earlier, when they finished dinner, and earlier, almost in the middle of the day.

“Wait,” Roman cut himself off mid-sentence on a dangerously early trip to see his monster.   The spine of a certain, thin script gleamed out at him. “You have Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead?!”

“No,” the snake deadpanned.  “It's my malevolent plan to take over the world carefully disguised to look like a Tom Stoppard play.”

“Do you want to read it?”  Roman, too excited to be put off my his sarcasm, continued.  “It's a two-person, but none of the other sides ever want to run lines with me, except Patton, but he's…”  Roman winced. “A bit sensitive to the sad parts.”

“Sounds dreadful.”  His monster hummed and grabbed it, flipping to the front.  “Who’s who?”

“Dibs on Rosencrantz,” Roman called.

The snake scowled, propping the script against the cage’s bars where they could both see it.  “You just want your name to come first, don’t you?”

Roman grinned.  “Maybe.” His gaze fell on his monster’s gloved hand, and he frowned, batting at it.  “Hey, take those off. You need air to heal.”

Reluctantly, the snake removed his gloves, bandages strangely pale against his skin.

“Better.”  Roman flashed a smile at him as his monster flipped open the script and began to read.

“There’s an art to the building up of suspense.”

 

Somewhere between the first and second acts, Roman laid his hand over his monster’s bare one.  It’s a strange feeling, to touch someone on purpose. The smallest point of contact, yet it danced in the rest of him, scalp to toes.

The snake stayed very still, coiled with tension, and, for once, didn't comment.  It'd probably be rude to, while they were both still reading aloud, but he hadn't seemed to care about that sort of thing before.  (He even once ranted to Roman for half an hour on how societal customs were just made of lies.)

Then he wrapped his fingers around Roman's wrist, slow and careful like a wild creature he didn't want to frighten away.  Ordinarily, Roman would move away. Moving away from the monster, he knew the other sides would cry, was the _only_ rule.  No matter how much he wanted to stay, nestled together, instead.  
  
So he did.  He tuned out those three familiar voices, lacing his fingers through his monster’s.  
  
They carefully held hands, neither daring to look at the other, until their read-through was over. When Roman made to leave, they didn't say a thing about it, slipping instead into banter about how next time, they’re going to read something that his monster chooses (never mind the snake had this one) and that it will most definitely be something with even more murder and mayhem.

 

Alone in his room that night, Roman stared at his fingers and wondered where that feeling was coming from.

The feeling like he was waking up.

 

 

It was a mistake.

He had gotten too comfortable.

Roman cursed himself, cursed his treacherous heart, cursed the feeling in his chest like a glow.  There was a reason he was down there.

And now he was being reminded of it so cruelly.

Nothing had been amiss, not until his monster turned to him, with that lazy grin that turned Roman’s stomach to water and asked a simple question.

“Why’d you lie to me?”  The snake looked at him through half-lidded eyes, lounging across a couch Roman vaguely recognized.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he responded.

“That first night” - he yawned, revealing sharp teeth and a forked tongue - “you said the other sides call me a monster.”

“You’re saying they don’t?”  Roman challenged.

“I’m saying,” the monster said pointedly, “that they’ve never said that to you.”  His bichromal gaze pinned Roman, who shuffled and studied the ground. “They don’t know you come down here, do they?”

“Of course they do!”  Roman blustered. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Oh, so it’s no big deal if I mention our little chats to Virgil next time he brings me breakfast?”

Roman’s silence spoke for itself.

The snake flicked out his tongue then scrunched his nose.  “You absolutely reek of lies, Roman.”

“So what?”  Roman snapped, his temper flaring up hot.  His monster had been so amiable, so gorgeous, so beguiling, yet now he did _this?_   “Why does it matter if they didn’t tell me?”

“Because they don’t trust you.”  The monster seemed to be enjoying himself, those eyes glittering as Roman’s hands clenched into fists.  

“Shut up!”  

The monster smirked.  “I suppose you always get so angry about false accusations?”

Flushing, Roman bit his tongue.  They held each other's gazes for a long moment before Roman gritted his jaw, turned away.

The snake yawned, flicking a forked tongue.  “I know you're an actor, Roman, but your whole life shouldn't be a role.”

“Don't you dare presume you know me,” Roman growled.  “The other sides were right about you.”

“Oh, _them,”_ he scoffed.  “Your ‘friends’.”

“They are my friends,” Roman snapped.  “They’re my family.”

“I never said they weren't.”

“You don't know anything about us.” Roman’s lip curled.  “About me.”

“Who _are_ you supposed to be then?”

Roman made an incredulous noise, but the monster just looked at him idily.

“Go on, then.”

“Well, I-I’m,” he blustered, “I’m Creativity!  I’m Roman Sanders! The romantic side! The prince and hero of the mindscape!  I help Thomas with his issues, and I work with the other sides, and…” He trailed off.  “Yeah,” he finished lamely.

“Is that it, then?”  The monster cocked an eyebrow.

Roman gritted his jaw.  “It’s enough.”

“Not for someone like you.  You say you’re a prince, but you take a supporting role.  You say you’re creativity, but you let the others stifle you.  You're trapped and you don't even bother to acknowledge it.”

“You’re the one who’s trapped,” Roman snapped.

“But not the only one.”  The monster tilted his head, slitted eyes steady.  “Don't you get tired?”

“Of what?”

“Trying so hard to be the person they think you are.”  He smiled.

“You don’t know me, Jekyll and Lied,” Roman said lowly.

“You and a broken record really should get together some time.”  He yawned, flicking out a forked tongue. “You have quite a lot in common.”

“Do you enjoy this?”  Roman demanded. “Driving me to my wit’s end like this?”

The monster pouted, all big eyes and exaggerated lips.  “It’s the only fun I ever get down here.”

Roman scoffed.  “The fun’s over.”  He turned to stalk away.  The words felt like sandpaper against his throat, but he rasped them out anyway.  “I think it’s better if I don’t see you again.”

Better if he didn’t have to look at those mismatched, gorgeous eyes.  Better if his mind didn’t get wrapped in a voice like silk.  Better if he didn’t see those bars and fight not to wonder what he would do if they didn’t stand between him and-

“Deceit,” the monster said.

Roman stilled, turned.  “What?”

“You said we don’t know each other?”  He smiled through fanged teeth. “Now you know me, my prince.”

Deceit.

Roman left, silently.  The single word pooled in his mind, oozing into the cracks, drowning his other thoughts.

Deceit.

His tongue flicking down to tap at this teeth, a low hiss, a puff of a exhale - he mouthed it to himself, once, twice.  It rolled over his mouth like honeyed wine.

Deceit.

 

“You good, kiddo?”  Head tilted, Patton looked at him over the dinner table.

“Yeah, more lights look like they're out than usual,” Virgil snorted.

Logan just peered at him steadily, a tilt to his eyebrows Roman would call concerned if he didn't know better.

“Fine,” Roman sighed, slumping dramatically.  “I just” - _maybe, possibly am feeling untoward things towards the monster-snake thing you keep in the basement.  I know about that by the way, surprise!_ \- “have the absolute _worst_ creative block right now!”

“Oh, well, phoey!”  Patton grimaced sympathetically, patting his arm.  “You take all the time you need, champ. I know you got this.”

Roman smiled thinly.  “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose.  “Ugh, feelings.”

“That's Logan's line!” Patton interjected with a giggle.

Logan pressed his lips into a thin smile.

“Seriously, though, don't worry about it, Princey.”  Virgil waved a hand dismissively. “We got you. Anyway, guys, did you _see_ how awesome Talyn’s new hair is? As soon as we go back to purple, I think-”

Roman let his friends’ voices fade into a low, comforting rumble around him while his mind drifted far, far below them.

 

 

He hadn’t seen Deceit for three weeks when Roman woke up, aching.  He groaned as the last vestiges of the dream slipped through his hands - the pseudo-memory of fangs sinking into his neck and scaled hands running through his hair.

Three weeks, every day more difficult than the last.  The other side plagued his every waking thought, and, as soon as he dared fall asleep, the dreams came.

Roman groaned again, biting down on his hand.  He wanted to kiss Deceit so badly it hurt. He needed a lean, scaled body against his, mouthing at his neck, tugging at his hair.  Or, maybe, he’d be the one to tease him. Making those pretty lips fall open with gasps and pleas.

Roman didn’t care.  Couldn’t care, as long as his monster was there, with him.  With those gorgeous eyes and that fire in his soul.

“Deceit,” he breathed, the word breaking off into a gasp.  His mind was drunk on the heady fog that settled around him, cloying his thoughts.  All he could see, all he could think of was Deceit, against him, hissing and moaning and biting.

His palms were dry, but he didn’t quite mind the roughness.  He ached, imagining those eyes, staring at him. He panted out, stuttered, “Dece-, ah, Dee- baby, I-”.  His monster’s name couldn’t quite fall from his lips. His mind wasn't working, nor was his voice.

He bit down on his palm with a muffled cry.

A moment of bliss.

And then Roman was in his bed, sticky and sweaty.  Alone.

He rolled over and tried not to dream.

 

“So you’re telling me Thomas can’t try out for both parts?”  Patton, at a meeting of the sides, pursed his lips.  “Just J.D. or Cinderella’s Prince?”

“That is correct.”  Logan pushed his glasses up his nose.  “Due to scheduling conflicts, we will only be able to attend one audition.  I am aware that Roman would prefer the role of The Prince for Thomas's upcoming professional make-believe, however, we must consider-”

Logan’s lecture faded into the background as Roman, still shaken from his dream, couldn’t help but think that _of course_ Logan had just assumed what he would think.  Not like he could be anything but a prince.

_Aren't you tired of being the person everyone thinks you are?_

“Actually,” Roman cleared his throat, and the other sides looked at him.  “I think we should go for J.D.”

“Really?”  Patton blinked.

Virgil arched an eyebrow.  “You good there, Princey?”

“Previous data would entirely indicate you prefer the… heroic roles,” Logan hedged.  “Has some anomaly occurred?”

Roman shrugged, over-casual.  “It's the better part.  Doesn't matter if Thomas is the hero or the villain.  I just want him to have the starring role.”

“That’s not all that’s important though!”  Patton protested.  “Thomas has a lot of fans, and we need to worry about what sort of message we’re sending them!  If he’s a villain instead of a prince, it could really-”

Roman swallowed hard, letting Patton’s voice buzz around him.  The conversation was getting away from him. Roman felt that instinctual panic pressing at his throat, that voice that said he had to be perfectly amiable for everyone to like him growling in his ear, but he pushed them both away.

What would _he_ do?

Roman held up a hand, cutting the other side off.  “Pat,” he soothed, voice as smooth and slick as a serpent.  “I appreciate what you’re saying here, truly, but as Thomas’s creativity, I’m just going to have to ask you trust me on this.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed.

Roman squared his jaw and crossed his arms.  “Thomas should try out for J.D. - end of story.”

His heart pounded in his chest, roared in his ears, leapt in his throat, but he held Patton’s gaze steadily.  The other side just smiled benevolently and tilted his head, eyes guileless.  There was something in Patton’s sky-blue eyes, a sharpness, a wit that he didn’t like to show.

Maybe Deceit was closer than Roman had thought.

Behind his back, Roman clenched his shaking hand into a fist.

Patton laughed, airily, and shrugged.  “If you say so, kiddo!”

The tension immediately drained out of the air, each side’s shoulders relaxing.

“Hey, you know I’m not going to argue,” Virgil chuckled.

“I guess it’d be better for Thomas to branch out a little anyway!”  Patton chirped.

“Very well then, it’s settled.”  Logan nodded crisply. “I’ll schedule in the audition for next week.”

Roman looked around with wide eyes.  They agreed. They agreed with him. Taking the time to throw out a ‘thanks, nerd!’ he sank out, bubbling with excitement.

 

“It worked!”  Roman bounded downstairs, eyes shining.  “I did something unusual, and it turned out okay!  Thomas is going to be J.D., not The Prince!”

“Oh, well done, Roman!”  Deceit shone out at him, carrying a fanged smile.  “I'm so proud of you.”

Roman beamed, bouncing on his toes.  “I just kept thinking about what you had said, and, don’t get me wrong, Into The Woods is fantastic, but I just thought-”

Deceit waited patiently, smiling and nodding along to his ramble.

“-and Freeze Your Brain?”  Roman waved his hands enthuastically. “Hello?”

“One problem though.”  Deceit rose from his chair, sliterthing towards the bars.

Roman frowned.  “Dead Girl Walking?  Yeah, I thought about that too, but I think that it’s fine as as long as we just think about Idris Elba.”

“Clever,” Deceit conceded, a smirk flickering at the edge of his lips, “but you’re missing something else.”

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t coming to see me again.”  Deceit arched an eyebrow.

Only then did Roman still, the excess of his excited energy abruptly fizzling away.  A hand came up to awkwardly rub at the back of his neck. “Yes, well…” He stared intently at the cracked concrete floor.  “Even if I left you, I don’t think I’d be able to get far.”

A shuffling prompted him to lift his eyes to Deceit, intent.  His monster’s eyes almost glowed as his hands wrapped around the bars, pressed as close to the outside as he could get.  “Careful, Roman,” he said lowly, dangerously. “You’ll get my hopes up.”

This was when the hero would run.  This was when he would heed the words of his beloved friends - his bosom companions - and turn away from his monster.

But Roman was tired of being the hero.

It had never gotten him anywhere.

“Good,” he said, just as low, just as dipped in peril.  He stalked forward, and it was Deceit’s turn to react - human skin coloring and slitted eyes growing wide.  “Maybe you should.”

Deceit’s breath hitched as Roman lifted his chin.

“Is this okay?”  Roman asked, softly.

Deceit grabbed his sash and yanked him in.

The angle was terrible, there was a bar digging into Roman's cheek, and he couldn't get nearly as close as he wished.

Roman couldn't remember ever feeling happier.

 

 

“Oh, here, kiddo, let me help you wash up.”  After their family dinner, Patton took a stack of plates over to the sink, where Roman stood elbow-deep in suds.

“Thanks, padre.”  Roman flashed him a smile.

They worked in silence for a moment.  However much Roman tried to hide it, things had felt… different between himself and the other sides as of late.  A strained sort of tension settled like so many walls between him and the others.

They hadn’t trusted him.  They kept a side locked away in a cage.  They weren’t people Roman really knew.

Then again, Roman was beginning to think he wasn’t someone they knew either.

“So,” Patton chirped, bubbly as ever as he hopped up on the counter to dry the dishes.  “The new script is almost done?”

“Yup!”  Roman confirmed, wiping his hands dry.  “All I’ve got to do is make the final edits with Logan, and we’ll be good to go.”

“You sure have been spending a lot of time with Logan lately,” Patton giggled, swinging his feet in the air.

Roman half-turned and blinked at him, surprised.  “Not more than usual, I’d say.”

“Don't think Virge and I haven't noticed you sneaking off all the time.”  Patton shot him a playful look.

A chill ran down Roman's spine, even as he plastered a bashful smile on his face.   “We're just _talking,”_ he insisted with a laugh.  His stomach churned.

Did Patton know?  He couldn't if he was talking about Logan, surely, but… what if?

He looked into Patton's guileless blue eyes. Always so innocent, so sweet, even when shoving a side in captivity for the rest of their lives.

“Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?”   Patton wriggled his eyebrows, and Roman batted at him.

“Ew, pops, gross!”

Patton's smile softened, and he tilted his head sympathetically.  “But, seriously, kiddo, I'm happy for you. I know things were a little… rough for you after Virge and I got together, of _coarse.”_

Roman barked out a laugh.  It scraped at the inside of his throat.  “I am supposed to be the romantic side,” he admitted.  “Sorta seemed like you were stealing my job.”

“Well, I'm glad to see that you and Lo are the ones who are as thick as _thieves_ now.”  Patton winked.  “You seem happier lately than you have been in a long time.”

Mismatched eyes and a sharp smile flashed in Roman's mind; a soft grin played on his lips.  “Yeah,” he said. “I really am.”

 

 

Somewhere in the past few months, he’d stopped asking himself if it was wrong to take such comfort in those details-- in fangs, in mismatched eyes, in a too-long forked tongue.  To find them reassuring, instead of villainous.  To find them beautiful instead of frightening.  To find them worthy of adoration instead of scorn.

Somewhere in the past few months, he had merely embraced those things as part of falling in love.

 

 

Roman was alive.

His hands flapped, energy buzzing down his arms, his spine, his legs, and he couldn't stop smiling.

“He got the call back!”  He cried, bursting into the common rooms.  The other sides looked up - lighting up at his words registered.  “Odin's Beard, it was _not_ easy - let me tell you!”  Roman draped himself over the back of the sofa, dramatically swooning.  “I was there on stage with him the whole time and it was _stressful.”_

“But you did it!”  Patton clapped. “Ro, that's great!”

“I know!”  Roman jumped up and spun around, clapping.  “On April lucky number thirteen, all our dreams come true!”

It took a moment for Roman to realize everyone else in the room had gone stock-still.

“April thirteenth?”  Virgil repeated softly.

“April thirteenth!”  Roman repeated, smile slowly sliding off of his face.  “Why?”

Patton shot Logan a meaningful look, and Thomas’s organizer cleared his throat, straightened his tie.  “I'm afraid we are already committed to a previous engagement.”

“Nice one.”  Patton giggled.

“Unintentional.”  Logan shot him a withering glare.

“A previous…”  Roman smacked himself on the forehead.  “Oh, the wedding!”

“Yes, the wedding!”  Patton smiled.

“Well, that's not as important as this, is it?”  Roman waved a hand, a glow returning to his eyes.  “We can just meet up with them and celebrate later.  This is such a grand, unique opportunity! I'm sure they'll understa-”

“Roman.”  Patton turned to him - not frowning, never frowning, but the disappointment in his eyes was almost as bad.  “Thomas made a commitment!  He should be there for his friends.”

“But, I don't- you-”  Roman stammered, suddenly prickling with uncomfortable warmth.  “Patton, you were _just_ saying what a great opportunity this is!”

Virgil grimaced.  “What is, being stressed out for _weeks_ until it happens, losing the love of his friends, then choking at the last minute and blowing it?”

“Well,” Logan mused, tapping his fingers together.  “Perhaps if he chews his food properly-”

“He's not going to choke!”  Roman snapped.  “I don't - I can't believe you.  Do you even know what this means to Thomas? To me?”

“Roman, this is their big day!”  Patton protested.  “We have to be there for them!”

“We don’t have to do anything!”  Roman cried.

“Princey,” Virgil interjected.  “I get that this is a big deal or whatever, but it's not worth the stress, and it's not worth Lee and Mary-Lee hating us.”

Logan frowned.  “Actually, from an objective standpoint-”

“Thomas doesn't even want to go!”  Roman shouted.  “He's just going to be _miserable_ the whole time.  Lee and Mary-Lee have each other, and all that's going to happen is that he's going to remember that I'm-”  Roman faltered.  “He's alone. That… he's alone.”

He gritted his jaw, staring at the floor.

“Kiddo,” Patton said softly.  “I know this is difficult, but it's the right thing to do.”

“Is it?”  Roman sighed, mournful.

“Is it?”  Logan echoed, without the resignation, tilting his head.

“Yes,” Patton said firmly.  “It is. Roman, I'm sorry, but we're not going to that audition.”

“But, Pat, please, if you just-”

“I said no.”

“You listened to me last time!”

“Last time wasn’t this important.”

Roman looked around, helplessly.  Patton was resolute, immovable.  Virgil just shook his head slightly.  Logan was looking off into the middle distance, a puzzled twist to his mouth, as if riddling something out.

No one was going to help him.

“Wow, guys,” he said, a bitterness growing on the back of this tongue.  “It’s so cool how you never listen to me.”

Logan sucked in a sharp breath.

Roman sunk out, quickly as he could.  No one called after him.  His eyes burned, and he was running as soon as his legs were substantial beneath him.  He blindly ran, searching for his room, a safe sanctuary, _somewhere_ he could be okay.

The door flew open under his hands, the stairs thudded under the arrhythmic drumming of his feet, and the bars of the cage bit into his palms.  He fell onto his knees before the iron bars, grasping them tightly.

“They're not going to let him go,” Roman sobbed as Deceit crouched, worry and confusion etched into his face.  “I told them that he should, and they didn't listen, but it's so important to me and to Thomas, and it's all for some stupid _wedding_ and Thomas is going to be miserable and I don't-”

“Roman!”  Deceit interrupted him sharply, then softened.  “Roman,” he repeated, wrapping his hands around the other side’s.  “You need to breathe, my prince.”

“The other sides, they, they didn't-” Roman gasped, swallowed, tried to regain control of his heaving chest.  “Dee, they didn't even listen to me.”

“What did they say to you, darling?”  Deceit’s hands fluttered, smoothing down Roman's hair, rubbing his shoulders, wiping tears from his cheeks. “What'd they do?”

Roman calmed down enough to be embarrassed, realizing under Deceit’s attentions what a mess he must've been.

“Just something about a callback.”  Roman drew away, smoothing down his hair.  “It's- it's nothing. I didn't mean to make a fuss.”

“They made you cry,” Deceit said, softly.

“It's nothing,” Roman repeated, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.  “This is… this is so stupid. I'm sorry” - he rose - “I shouldn't have come, I wasn't thinking and I-”

“Roman.”  Deceit interrupted him, gently but firmly.  “They made you _cry._  I'm a little out of touch, but last time I checked, that's not ‘nothing’.”

Roman huffed out a laugh despite himself.

“I know you,” Deceit said, like he was trying to calm a wild creature.  “I know you don’t get this worked up about nothing.”  He settled more firmly on the floor and looked at Roman expectantly.  When Roman didn’t speak, he arched an eyebrow.  “Or sit in silence for the rest of eternity; whatever fits your schedule better, really.”

Slowly, through deep breaths and trembling hands, Roman relayed the whole story to Deceit.  The caged side sat, coiled like a snake about to strike, those eyes dark and intent on Roman.

“So I just sunk out,” Roman finished, “and ran here.”

Deceit nodded slowly for a moment before he stood up, sliding his hands against each other.  “Well,” he said, “I’m going to kill them.”

Roman made a shocked noise, and Deceit looked down, frowning.  “No? A light maiming, perhaps?”

“You’re not going to hurt the other sides,” Roman hissed, eyes a hysterical sort of wide.

“No?”  Deceit tilted his head, serpentine.  “Why not?”

“Because they were right!”  Roman cried. He deflated, shoulders slumping.  “They’re always right. Maybe I _am_ stupid for wanting this.  I fuck everything up, and now, just when I get my chance, they say no.  Because they know what would happen. I'm never good enough.” Roman bowed his head, unable to look the other side in the eyes as his voice dropped to a whisper.  “I do everything wrong.”

Gloved hands cupped his cheeks, and Roman's eyes met a mismatched pair, shining with determination.

“Roman,” Deceit said, “you're the only thing that's right in this world.  Why do you even listen to them? You’re _creativity._  You’re so much stronger than the rest of us.  You’re the one who makes our world, Roman.  All we can do is marvel.”

Roman held onto those hands like a lifeline, crying for an entirely different reason now.  “It's not fair.” He shuffled closer, until cold iron bit into him. “I want…” He broke off again, shoulders shaking.

Deceit shushed him gently, wiping away tears.  “I know, my prince. I know.”

“I love you,” Roman said, eyes overflowing.  “And you can't even hold me.”

Deceit stilled, and Roman replayed his own words.

He flew back, apologies flying out of his mouth at a million miles an hour.  “I'msorry,Ishouldn’thave,IknowI’m _pathetic,_ Ididn’tmeanto-”

“Roman,” Deceit said, softly.  The way his name slid off that forked tongue silenced him instantly.  “Did…” Roman had never seen his monster hesitant before. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” Roman said.  It was all he could say.

Deceit sank down to his knees and stuck his arms through the bars.  “Come here.”

Roman sat, facing him.

Deceit arched an eyebrow.  “Other way.”

Roman flushed and shuffled around awkwardly.  He let gloved hands tug him backwards, until his spine was pressed against the bars.

“What are you doing?”

Roman could feel Deceit rolling his eyes.  “Dancing a salsa.”

Roman laughed despite himself.  “Just checking.”

Deceit molded himself as best he could, wrapping his arms firmly around Roman’s chest, letting his head fall forward until soft curls and hot puffs of breath hit the back of Roman’s neck.

It was a long time before Deceit spoke again, softly, as if he thought Roman had succumbed to sleep.  “It’s going to be okay, my prince. I’ll make it okay.” He pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

With Deceit’s arms around him, he could almost forget about the bars biting into his back.  It wasn't enough, it would never be enough until Deceit was with him, holding him in the sun, but it was close enough.

 

 

He didn't remember falling asleep, but soon enough, he opened his eyes, and he _ached._ His head was lolled forward at an awkward angle, and he groaned, rubbing at the crick in his neck.

“There's the sleeping beauty,” a deep voice rumbled in his ear.

Roman instinctually jerked forward, away from the bars at his back, but arms wrapped around his waist stopped him.

Bars.  arms. A concrete floor.

He relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips.  “Morning, lyin’ king.”

Cool lips pressed into his hair.  “If I’m a king, what does that make you?”

Roman pouted, turning around.  “There can be two kings.”

Deceit cocked an eyebrow.  “On your knees, asking to be king alongside me?”  His smile turned lecherous.  “Mr. Sanders, you’re trying to seduce me.”

Roman sputtered, and Deceit cackled, waving off his indignation.  “Teasing, teasing. Oh, Roman, you know I love you.”

He didn’t stiffen when he said it, didn’t bite his forked tongue or widen his mismatched eyes, but Roman could see the instantaneous panic in the way his smirk twisted, became a pantomime of nonchalance.

“I know.”  Roman shrugged, not bothering to hide his small, shining smile.  “I didn’t fall asleep as quickly as you thought.”

The other side looked at him with something like shock before the set of his twisted lips fell into genuine.

“Oh, so you _can_ be quiet.”  Deceit chuckled.  “Who are you and what have you done with Prince Roman?”

Roman took his monster’s gloved hand and bowed to press a kiss to the back of it.  “I’m yours,” he murmured before looking up with a devilish smirk.  “And all I’ve done is become myself.”

Something in Deceit’s expression broke open.  His voice was softer than Roman had ever heard it.  “You’re… you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. Perfect. You know that, don’t you?”

Roman smiled wryly, straightening up.  “I almost believe it when you look at me like that.”

“If I had my way, you'd believe it all the time.”

“A pity you don't get your way all the time, then.”

“Not yet,” Deceit said before flicking his eyes towards the door up all those stairs, where the faintest glimmers of morning light were streaming in through the cracks.  “You need to get out of here,” he hissed. “One of the others will be down to bring me breakfast soon.”

“Right,” Roman said and didn't move.

Deceit arched an eyebrow.  “Your get-away skills are impeccable.”

Roman grinned.  “You said you love me.”

“Yes, and you heard me.”  Deceit made a dismissive gesture.  “We _haven't_ covered this already.”

“You said you love me,” Roman repeated, wrapping his hands around the bars.  “And you're not going to seal the deal?”

“You're insatiable,” Deceit drawled.

“Aw, come on,” Roman purred, leaning in.  “Don't lie to me.”

It felt more like champagne than fireworks, small bubbles filling his chest and head until he was impossibly light.  He glowed, drunk on intoxicating kisses and love, love, love.

“Not to you,” Deceit said, soft as the final kiss he gave.  “Never to you.”

 

 

Roman's steps were soft, almost dreamy as he danced along, up those rickety stairs.  A silly smile played on the edges of his lips. He kept reaching up, touching where Deceit’s lips had met his.

He loved him.

He _loved_ him.

 _A ridiculous overreaction to mere exchange of words,_ Logan would've said, scowling.  That was alright though. The nerd didn't have to know everything.  Virgil didn't have to know how soft Deceit's lips were against his. Patton didn't have to know that Roman felt champagne-drunk, weak-kneed, giddy with excitement.

This wasn't something the other sides got.  This was entirely Roman's.

He eased the door shut, smoothing the edge until it blended almost perfectly with the wallpaper.  He turned on his heels, humming, and walked off.

“Roman?!”  A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Roman found himself whirled around, staring into Virgil's wide eyes.

“Ohhh, hey… Virge.”  Roman made a grimace that could possibly pass for a smile.  “What's up?”

“Roman, what the hell were you doing down there?”

Roman couldn't help but notice the disparity between Virgil's hiss and Deceit’s; a skittering of gravel versus silk on skin.

Virgil didn't pause for Roman to respond, running both hands through his hair and growling out another curse.  “Okay, okay, I- okay.” Virgil took several deep breaths, trying to edge out his tension. “You stay right here, and I'm going to go get Patton, okay?”

Roman's temper flared up in his stomach, hot and violent as an explosion.  “Not okay, actually,” he snapped, seizing Virgil's arm. “You're going to stay here and explain to me why, apparently, we keep a si- a snake thing locked in our basement.  When did we even _get_ a basement?!”

“Roman,” he said, “I… I know this looks bad, but you have to hear me out.”  He exhaled sharply, gently prying his arm out of Roman’s grasp. “What did… he tell you?”

“That he’s Deceit,” Roman said evenly.  “And that the three of you stuck him down there.”

“That’s all?”

“I was sort of alarmed by the snake living in our apparently existent basement, Virgil!”  Roman threw up his hands. “I didn’t exactly stop to give him the fifth degree! I freaked out and bolted up the stairs and came face-to-face with apparently the _second_ most monstrous thing in this household!”

Deceit was right.  Lying and acting weren’t so different after all.

“I mean,” Roman continued, “why is he even down there?  He seemed perfectly nice!”

“That’s exactly it, Roman!  That's what he does!” Virgil hissed, hands flying around.  “He flatters and he lies and he tries to trick you.”

“But that doesn't make all of you not telling me about him okay!”  Roman fired back. “Am I not _smart enough_ to know what's going on in my own home?  Am I not _responsible_ enough?”

“Of course you are!”  Virgil snapped. “We were just trying to protect you!”

Roman blinked, the fight draining from his stance.  “Protect me?”

Virgil deflated in turn, turning his head and working his jaw.  “You're… susceptible to flattery,” he said carefully. “Your biggest weakness is what he does best, and we just thought that it'd be… safer for you.  If you never had to even know about him. If he never got the chance to twist your thoughts. We didn’t _want_ to hide anything from you, Princey.  We just were scared of hurting you.”

“Oh,” Roman said, unsure what to make of the myriad of emotions bubbling in his gut.  “I… oh.”

Virgil shook his head.  “How'd you even get down there, Princey?”

“I saw Patton bringing meals down there.”  Roman shrugged. “Microsoft Nerd may be the majority of curiosity, but I’m not far behind.”

“That’s it then?”  Relief swept over Virgil’s features.  “Just randomly seeing it and investigating?”

“It was just idle curiosity.”  Roman smiled, genuine as he could.  “Guess I've been hanging out with Bill _dry_ the Science Guy too much.”  He sighed, shook his head. “Look, if it really means so much to all of you, I won't go down again, alright?  We can even keep this between the two of us and just forget it even happened.”

Virgil stared at him for a long moment, dark gray eyes searching.  “Promise?”

“Come on, Incredible sulk, you know me.”  Roman swing an arm around the other side's shoulders and grinned.  “Would I lie to you?”

Downstairs, in the deep, deep darkness, Deceit looked up and smiled.

 

 

“What would you do?”  Roman said, quietly. He was lying beside the cage, pressed as close as he could.  Scarce touches of fabric and flesh brushed against his skin as Deceit, on the other side, did the same.  They were staring at the ceiling, at the night sky Roman had conjured.

“What do you mean?”  Deceit rejoined.

“If you weren’t in here.”  The stars above them rippled, swirled - constellations that should have taken eons to shift dancing through life in mere minutes.  “What did you do before? What would you do after?”

“There are others,” Deceit mused.  “I could always return to them.”

“Others like you?”  Roman wondered just how much those three sides were hiding from him.

Deceit chuckled, a low rumbling sound Roman could feel in his bones.  “There isn’t anyone else like me.”

A bitter, salty taste grew on the back of Roman’s tongue, almost like he had been crying.  “That’s not true.” Through the bars, his hand found Deceit’s, and their fingers intertwined.

“There are sides who live in the darkness, and those who walk in light.”  Deceit pulled his hand away.  “You deserve the spotlight more than anyone, my love.”

Roman turned on his side and seized Deceit’s hand again, eyes blazing with determination.  “The spotlight’s no good without shadows around it.”

An amused sort of sadness flashed across Deceit’s face.  “I suppose you’re right.”

“Besides,” Roman continued.  “I’m beginning to think I don’t always want to be on the light side.”

Deceit’s eyes glowed. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He brought up their joined hands and kissed Roman’s, tenderly.  When the prince sighed, softly, he kept going, kissing each knuckle, mouthing at his wrist, running Roman’s fingers along his lips.

“Think of the incredible things you do with these hands, my prince,”  Deceit hummed against his skin. “Write, paint, sculpt, act - so many wonders.”  He flicked his forked tongue out, running it over Roman’s thumb in a haze of warmth.  “Why would you let a snake like me touch them?”

Roman bit his bottom lip, eyes blown wide.  “You know why.”

Deceit chuckled lowly.  “Do you even know the things I want to do to you when you look at me like that?”

“I imagine,” Roman murmured in kind, “the same things I want when you look at me.”

“Come here,” Deceit said.

“You know I can’t.”

Deceit pressed a kiss to his palm.  “Who am I again?” Deceit looked up, smiled bitterly.  “Lying and acting are just both parts of pretending, my love.”

Dark and gold eyes, dark and gold clothes, just barely separated from copper eyes, white and gold clothes.  Two sides of the same coin.

Roman looked at him, heart threatening to tear itself out of his chest.  “I want to kiss you so hard it hurts.”

“Do it, then.”

Roman leaned forward, and, above them, a supernova bloomed.

 

 

“You know, don’t you?”  Logan didn’t bother to knock, and Roman didn’t bother to ask what he was talking about.

“Did you all really think I wouldn’t find out?”  Roman pushed back from his desk, the ire he had so long managed to conceal dripping from his words.  “How could you? He’s a side, just like us, and you keep him locked up like some animal?!” He was standing by the end of his tirade, chest heaving and fists clenched.

“I shouldn’t have agreed,” Logan said.  “I know that now. My previous actions were… malicious.  Immoral.”

“Why'd you agree, then?”  Roman demanded. “If you know how _wrong_ is is, why did you say yes?”

“You know how hard Patton is to say no to!  With Deceit locked away, what’s left but unfettered Morality?”  Logan snapped. “He kept insisting that he knew what was _morally_ correct, and bringing out these logical reasons until I was just overwhelmed!  What was I supposed to do, say that I _felt_ in my _heart_ that it was wrong?”

“Yes,” Roman cried, throwing his hands up.  “Logan, you're not a robot! You can decide what's right and what's wrong for yourself!  You're allowed to have feelings.”

Logan was quiet for a moment.

“Then why do you all dismiss me every time I do?”

Roman drew back.  “What?”

It took him a moment to realize Logan was shaking, downturned face icy and hands clenched at his side.  “Every time, Roman. Everytime I try to give my _emotional_ input, I’m dismissed.  Interrupted. Rejected.”  He raised his head, eyes water-lined.  “If you think all the robot jabs and the computer jokes don't effect me, you really are spending too much time with Deceit.”

“Logan,” Roman said, heart aching.  “I… I didn't know.”

“You never bothered to see.”  Logan shook his head, trying to fling the emotions off of him.  “‘Whateves,’ as they say-”

“-no one says that-”

“-this tangent is entirely irrelevant.”  Logan’s face shuttered closed, every semblance of light blacked out.  “Deceit is the more pressing matter at hand.”

“Yes, but you…” Roman wavered, torn.  “Logan, I’m sorry.”

Whatever Logan had expected, it certainly wasn’t that.  “Pardon?”

“I’m sorry you felt like you were never heard,” Roman said.  “I’m sorry you went though the same thing as I did, but you didn’t have someone you love to turn to.  I’m sorry for everything I did that made you feel like that.”

Logan stared at him for a long moment.  “How do you always manage to surprise me?”

A wry, half-smile lifted Roman’s lips.  “Guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

“No.”  Logan almost returned his smile.  “I suppose I don’t. Regardless, I forgive you, and for my part, as well, I apologize.”

“I’m not mad about it, pocket protector,” Roman promised.  “I’m really not.”

Logan adjusted his tie, then: “You really love him?”

Roman thought of mismatched eyes, of a voice like silk, of late nights of conversation and a stitch in his side from laughing and a smile that made him feel like everything was going to be okay.  “With all my heart.”

Logan nodded, slowly, and stepped outside.  “Then get him.”

Roman blinked.  “What?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he couldn't quite stop the fond smile creeping across his face.  “Roman, I know idiocy is your modus operandi, but, just this once, please refrain.”

Roman couldn't even find it in himself to be offended.  “Logan, think about what you're saying.”

“No,” he said, calmly.  “For the first occurrence in a disproportionately exorbitant amount of time, I'm considering what I'm _feeling._  It is wrong to leave a side in captivity, and it is wrong to keep you away from who you love.  Therefore, I shall put forth my best effort to remedy each situation.”

“Logan, you're crying.”  Roman stepped forward gingerly, hands out in an offering of help.

Logan touched a finger under his eye and looked almost surprised when it came away wet.  “Ah, I suppose I am.”

Helpless to do anything else, Roman stepped forward and crushed him in a hug.

Logan crumpled against him, shaking.  “A tad belated, but I suppose now is an appropriate time to confess my affections.”  A trail of tears trickled down Logan’s face, but he made no effort to hide it. Instead, he pulled back and smiled, a sad, watery sort of thing.  “You… you always were the most amiable of my companions.”

A lump rose in Roman’s throat, and he nodded, trying to return that rare smile.  “You’re my best friend, too.”

“Splendid,” Logan said, voice wavering.

Roman leaned back, grasped him by the shoulders.  “Are you going to be okay?”

Logan swallowed hard, smiled.  “I suppose I’ll have to decide that for myself.”

Roman gathered him up again.  “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured into Logan's hair.

Logan laughed, bitterly.  “You _have_ been spending too much time with him.”  He pushed away, gently. “No time like the present.”

“Hey, Logan?”  Roman called the second before he disappeared.   He waited for the other side to turn around before flashing a million-kilowatt grin.  “I love you.”

As expected, Logan flushed, head to toe, and sputtered.  “We were having a nice moment, and you had to go and ruin it, didn't you?”

He laughed.  “I live to serve.”

Logan rolled his eyes and turned away.  “I love you, too, I suppose,” he said and didn't look back.

 

 

“We’re leaving,” Roman swept down the stairs, a manic sort of jitteriness in his steps.

“Roman?”  Deceit, startled, stood.  “Are you- what’s going on?”

“We don’t have a lot of time.”  Roman huffed out a breath, considering the lock.  “You said Patton made this?”

“Yes?”  Deceit worried at his bottom lip.  “Roman, I don’t know what you’re doing, but-”

“Will he be able to tell if I tamper with it?”  Roman dropped to his knees before it.

“Probably just if it falls off,” Deceit answered, “but you need to talk to me!  What are you doing?”

“Logan’s stalling for us,” Roman said.  His hands were shaking as he summoned two bobby pins.  “I’m getting you out of here.”

Deceit reared back.  “Roman, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Like hell I don’t,” Roman said mildly.  The panic in his system was so all-pervasive that it had simply disappeared, leaving him with an odd sort of calmness.  He put the pins inside and began to twist.

“Roman!”  Deceit hissed.  “Look at me!”

Those eyes, those eyes that had enchanted Roman from the first moment they met, were wide.  Panic and frustration was set in the lines of his face, but deeper than that, hiding somewhere under his features was despair.

“You don’t know what they’ll do if they find out you’re the one that helped me.  I would have said yes without a second thought when we first met,” Deceit said, voice trembling under the effort of holding himself together.  “But then I fell in love with you, Roman.  I’m not going to have you get hurt because of me.”

“They’re not going to hurt me,” Roman insisted, turning his attention back to his hands.

“You don’t know that!”  Deceit threw his hands up.  “Roman, please.  I thought you were kind enough not to poison me with hope.”

“They’re not,” he repeated, “because I’m going with you.”

The lock proved unrelenting under his efforts, and he hissed out a curse, smacking it.  He looked up to catch Deceit’s commiserating look, but the snake was frozen. His mouth worked uselessly, and his expression threatened tears.

“You don't know what you're saying,” he managed.

“Yes, I do,” Roman said, returning to his work.  The pins fumbled uselessly, and he threw them down in frustration.  “Damn it!”

“Roman, stop,” Deceit begged.  “I’m not worth it. I’m not worth being seperated from them.  I’m not worth you giving up what you have here. You’re strong enough to do it, but I’m not strong enough to live with that guilt.”

“You _are_ what I have,” Roman replied before the rest of the prisoner's words sunk in.  “Strong enough…” His eyes snapped up. “What was that you told me once? That creativity is stronger than the rest of you?”

“You know you are,” Deceit said, hope beginning to shine in those mismatched eyes.

“I didn’t use to.”  Roman smiled at him, then focused back on the lock.  He held out a hand towards it. It felt like Patton, the same way his room did.  That moral energy, that melancholy hiding behind a bright smile.

But Patton’s realm was nothing but memories.  Roman’s was physical. Here, a place with adventure and love and recklessness thick in the air, was all Roman’s.  He flexed his fingers.

The lock burst.

The door swung open.

Deceit, staring at the ground as if it would fall away, stepped out.

Roman looked at him, wide-eyed.  “You're here.” Despite himself, part of him had still believed he couldn’t do it.

“I’m here.”  Deceit didn't sound nearly as surprised.  He lifted his eyes from the floor wondrously, looking at Roman like he was a masterpiece.

A half-hysterical, half-elated laugh bubbled out of Roman's throat.  “You're _here.”_

“A masterful observation,” Deceit drawled, smirking.  “Do you intend on repeating your brilliant discovery or doing something about it?  I'm good with both, reall-”

Roman crashed into him; no finesse, no technique, just raw, burning, consuming, _passion._  He clawed at the other side, trying to press him closer, closer.  There were no bars in the way. Just lips against lips and hands desperately trying to drink in skin and scales alike.

“I love you,” Roman murmured against his lips.  “I love you,” he gasped as Deceit did something _delicious_ with his fangs against Roman's neck.  “I love you,” he breathed as Deceit grabbed him, crushing him against his chest as if he couldn't believe Roman was really here in his arms.

“I love you, too,” Deceit promised, trembling against him.  “I do.”

“I'm telling you, he's out!”  Patton's cry traveled down to them.  “I can _feel_ it!”

“Come now, Patton, that's rather illogical.  How on Earth could he have absconded from those restrainments?   I am under the impression that there is merely a fluke, a glitch if you will-”

“L, what the hell are you doing?”  Virgil growled. “Get out of the way!”

“Lovely as this has been” - Deceit winked - “it appears we’ve lost quite a bit of time.”

Panic began to set in on Roman.  Earlier it had been warded off by the sheer impossibility of his mission, but now, with Deceit beside him, it had no outlet.

He hissed out a curse, eyes darting from the stairs to the rest of the empty room.  “That’s our only way out.”

“Surely,” Deceit drawled, “it’s impossible for you to think of something else, Creativity.”

Roman closed his eyes, focused, and a rumbling crashed through the room.  A tunnel appeared in the far corner of the room.

From upstairs: “Logan, get out of the way!”

The door rattled on its hinges, and Roman backed away, heart racing.  “What do we do now?”

“Now?”

Deceit grabbed his hand and grinned.

“We run.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just like rebelling against the status quo, my dudes.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who reads, gives kudos, bookmarks, and, my favorite people in the world: commenters!
> 
> Roast me if you see a typo, cowards.


End file.
